


My Lover's Phylactery

by FrodaB



Series: Nadia Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrodaB/pseuds/FrodaB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't destroy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lover's Phylactery

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly stolen from a sidequest in the Hinterlands, which was responsible for planting the seed of this idea in my head.

“I have something for you,” Leliana says without preamble as Nadia Trevelyan enters the rookery. It smells, as it always does, vaguely of bird shit, but the Left Hand of the Divine never seems to notice, engrossed as she always is in reports from her agents near and far. 

The statement is a little surprising – if what she has is a report, she would wait until their next meeting in the war room, and share it with Josephine and Cullen as well. So it must be something... more personal than that. Nadia tilts her head at the other woman curiously.

“What's that?”

“I was recently reminded that, having come from Ostwick's Circle, you would've had a phylactery, no?” Leliana's eyes search her face in that keen way she has, even as Nadia is a little taken aback. It is... not what she expected.

“I – yes, that's true. I assumed they were all lost or destroyed in the chaos when the Circles fell,” she admits after a moment. The phylacteries weren't kept in the Circle itself – only those of apprentices. Once Harrowed, a mage's phylactery was sent elsewhere – they were never told where. She remembers with remarkable clarity when they took the blood from her. She had only just arrived at the Circle, angry and frightened – of herself, of the Templars, of the Tranquil who drew her blood and placed the enchantment on the vial. It wasn't painful, not physically, simply one more terrifying event to add to the heaps of terrifying events that had been occurring to her ten-year-old self.

She shivers, as her spymaster continues to speak. “Yes. I felt it would be a good idea to track yours down, to see that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. It would be a small but powerful tool to use against you, if someone had a mind. If it was destroyed, of course, that would be that, but I wanted to be sure.” From an inner pocket, she produces a small, familiar vial, which she offers to Nadia. The Inquisitor's throat goes a little dry at the sight of it, but she takes it.

“It took longer than I expected, but my agent in Cumberland came through. I considered having it destroyed in an 'accident', but as it is _your_ phylactery, it should be your decision to make.”

The vial is warm in her hand – unnaturally so, in fact, and glows brightly. She knows that it will dim, the further away she is from it, and if she were to die, it would cease to glow entirely. But she grips it tightly, nonetheless, and nods. “I – thank you. I hadn't even considered it. But you're right.” She's glad, with hindsight, that it's not just floating around out there, somewhere.

\----------

She doesn't destroy it. 

She's not sure exactly why, but something stays her hand. In her chambers, with the vial clutched in her fist she thinks about how it represents everything corrupt and hypocritical about the Circles – that they would so strongly condemn blood magic and yet use it against _every single mage in their care_ \- it arouses her anger, but still she can't bring herself to smash the thing, toss it into the fire, despite her mind telling her she should.

Leliana was, of course, correct. If it ever fell into the hands of an enemy, it could be a powerful tool to use against her. Anyone with the correct skill could use it to track her, theoretically anywhere in Thedas. More than that, having even a tiny bit of her blood could be very dangerous indeed. A skilled mage could use it to put a hex on her, to control her mind, to try to overcome her will. In the chaos following the fall of the Circles, she ran for her life and didn't give her phylactery much thought – there had been nothing she could do about it, anyway, and survival had been her top priority. Now that she has it, however, she _is_ grateful. Leliana is far more sympathetic to mages than she would ever have expected. Then again, the Hero of Ferelden is a mage, and the former bard speaks of her with nothing but warmth and respect. That must be it.

But that doesn't explain why she can't bring herself to destroy the phylactery.

\----------

It's several weeks later, on an excursion to the Western Approach, that it dawns on her. She sleeps in a tent at their campsite, or rather, lays on the bedroll staring up at the canvas above her head while sleep eludes her. It's relatively cool at night, but it's not Skyhold. Skyhold has started to become home to her, in a way that nothing has for a long, long time. And it's due in large part to him.

Her fingers find the chain around her neck, and the little coin that hangs there. When Cullen offered it to her, he had looked boyish, abashed. It's silly, and he knows it. The coin isn't _really_ good luck. It's just a coin. But it isn't just. It's a piece of him, that she carries with her, close to her heart, always. It helps, as often as they have to be apart, it's a reassuring reminder of him. Of his care, concern, his _love_.

She touches it often at night like this, just to remind herself, just to feel a little closer to him. On this night, with the wind blowing sand against the canvas of her tent, she wonders what he's doing, if he's thinking of her at all. She hasn't given him anything of hers. She doesn't have much, frankly. When the Circles fell, she was only able to keep what she could carry, and valuables or sentimental items didn't really factor in. 

That's when she remembers the phylactery, and everything clicks into place. A dead Templar in the Hinterlands, the sorrow of the mage he loved, and a phylactery. And she _knows_.

\----------

The walk to his tower is the most familiar path in Skyhold by now. At least once a day when she's here, she makes her way to his office. As often as not, they just talk – about work, of course, though they often have long conversations about other things. His family, her family, books they enjoy, other inconsequentials. And they kiss. Oh, they kiss. The desperate, insistent kisses when she first returns from a trip, and the slower, more languorous kisses when it's been a long day and they have the whole evening to themselves – she loves all of them.

He nods at her entrance, finishing his instructions to the courier standing across from his desk. Nadia waits, watching. His demeanor always changes when he notices her presence. His face softens, his posture relaxes. Frankly, he looks _younger_. It warms her to know she causes that, even if it means he may be less professional with the troops. They don't seem to respect him any less for it, anyway.

The door closes behind the courier, and Cullen wastes no time pulling her close to him. “Long day?” he murmurs, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Nadia smiles. “Could've been worse. I, uh. There's something I want to give you.” She suddenly feels a little unsure – will he understand her reasoning, or will he just get angry, tell her to destroy it already?

He gives her a measured look, probably noticing her sudden hesitation. “Oh? What's that?”

Before she can second-guess herself completely, the pulls the phylactery out of an inner pocket and offers it to him. “Leliana found this.”

She doesn't have to tell him what it is, or who it belongs to. He was a Templar – no doubt he's handled phylacteries before. The glow of it casts an eerie sort of light over his face, and he looks hesitant. “I see.”

She continues before he has time to question her: “I was going to destroy it. I know it could be – dangerous, in the wrong hands. But then I thought, well. I have to go so often into danger, and I have something of yours, for luck, but what do you have of mine? This could – I mean, you could keep it safe, and if you ever need to find me...”

She can't quite read Cullen's face, but he carefully takes the little vial, staring at it a moment. He looks almost – stricken. _If you ever need to find me._ It may very well happen, and they both know it. 

Then his arms are around her, and he kisses her with the utmost tenderness. Nadia lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, relaxing into his embrace. It always feels so remarkably _right_ , being with him.

“I will keep it safe,” he murmurs into her hair. “I promise.”

She wonders if he means the phylactery, or her.


End file.
